


I Find Myself In You

by ElysianStars



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst and Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElysianStars/pseuds/ElysianStars
Summary: Newly married, Corrin and Niles learn how to support each other despite the trials of war. But when grief begins to fracture Corrin's dragonstone, and Niles is sent off on a deadly mission, there's no guarantee either of them will make it through in one piece.





	I Find Myself In You

**Author's Note:**

> It's common knowledge that the localisation of Fates made changes to Niles' personality. They...weren't very good changes. Therefore, I'm writing him based on his original characterisation in the Japanese game (meaner to people in general, sweeter to Corrin once he's in love).

Morning sunlight streams lazily across the bedsheets, glints off the warm gold of new wedding rings. Corrin has been awake for a while, but there's no hurry to move from here (Niles, it turns out, has methods of waking somebody that are _very_ different to the icy spells Corrin used to suffer from his maids). A single day of reprieve in the astral realm, all the honeymoon they can afford to take, before they have to return to the soul-crushing realities of war.

So, every moment counts. Every heartbeat. Fingertips tracing the line of his husband's cheek, smoothing through soft, feather-white hair – and yes, he's done these things before, but now everything glows with novelty again because it's with his _husband_. Corrin can't help smiling at the notion, and the smile that answers him is honest, unguarded, with none of the usual cruelty, the mocking smirks others would get. Whatever Niles' troubles with other people, whatever his life used to be like, the scars inside and out, it's okay. None of that makes him less than perfect here.

And he knows it. Corrin has made absolutely sure that he knows it.

Niles takes Corrin's left hand, kisses it, but then gently slides off the wedding ring. Before there's a chance to question that, he's produced a golden chain, threading the ring on and fastening it around Corrin's neck instead. Hands lingering on his skin, crossing the lines of his collarbones, resting briefly over his heart.

“You think it's better to wear it this way?” Corrin asks, voice hushed, curious but not wanting to break the intimacy of silence.

“You haven't wondered what King Garon's reaction might be, to discover his least favourite child is newly married?”

“I...suppose he wouldn't be thrilled?” The question tarnishes Corrin's mood a little. Likely Garon wouldn't care at all, being so focused on the war. Nobody suggested inviting him to the wedding, and doubtless there'd be no congratulations, no gracious acknowledgement of Niles as a royal consort, or whatever his official title should be now. Does he get a title? Not something they'd given second thoughts to, since this is as far from a political match as it's possible to be (though Elise, with her typical exuberant spirit, has already declared Niles her brother-in-law).

“And it's not only him I'd worry about. As far as most people know, you love your siblings better than anyone else. Luckily, they're rather well-protected. What happens if your enemies find out there's someone more disposable you have a weak spot for?”

Phrased that way, it's horrible... Yet there's an undeniable logic behind it. Hoshidan soldiers have sneaked into their camp before, and targeted Corrin himself. There are even fellow Nohrians, dubious allies like Iago and Hans, who've taken a dislike to Corrin although he's done nothing against them. It's in his nature to see the best in people, but he's begun to realise that trust sometimes needs tempering, if not for his own sake then for those around him. Would somebody be spiteful enough to target the ones he loved, just because he loved them? Maybe so. And _he_ should be considering that, not leaving it up to Niles.

“You're right. I'm sorry, Niles.” Eyes downcast, he closes a hand around the ring, as if that can protect what it represents.

“Oh, don't get me wrong, you're worth the risk. No point getting reckless, though.” Niles shifts, getting more comfortable amongst the pillows. A light touch of finger and thumb beneath Corrin's chin, coaxing him to look up again. “Sorry, I didn't mean to spoil the atmosphere. Now, how can I fix that?”

Corrin manages to smile again. “You can go fetch us breakfast, without bothering Jakob.” He's noticed that Niles and Jakob have taken a special sort of dislike to each other, trading barbs when they think Corrin can't hear (and offensive gestures, when they think he's not looking). It's not a big problem, so long as they aren't disrupting each other's work.

“Consider it done, milord.” Niles sits up and offers a vague bow, a playful use of the honorific. Then, turning away, he begins speaking to himself as if rehearsing. “ _Jakob, I need your help. Lord Corrin has an appetite that I alone can't satisfy..._ ”

“Um. On second thoughts, I'll see to it myself.”

 

* * *

 

Potential threats to his life aside, Niles thinks it's fun, having a secret like this. Well, he's got plenty of other secrets too, but those tend to be more of the blood-curdling variety. This is _precious_. The only precious thing he's ever had, and he'll never let it go.

Sadly, the rest of the world isn't inclined to give them breathing space. The Nohrian army pierces deeper into enemy territory, and King Garon expects all his children – even his least favourite son – to engage in the violence, proving their loyalty. It's impossible for Corrin to reach the peaceful solutions he managed before, in places like the Ice Tribe's village (where Niles first met him, and thought his mindset was bizarre). The Hoshidans are desperate, fighting with homes and families at their backs. News of previous Nohrian brutalities has already reached them. Even if Corrin, with all his near-magical charisma, could speak to the leaders alone, he'd never convince them to surrender.

He'd probably try, all the same. He'd walk blithely into an ambush, and either wind up a hostage back in Castle Shirasagi, or struck down with ninja poison. Luckily, while he has enemies who'd love that to happen, he also has a fair amount of allies to hold him back and preach common sense.

And they have to watch a little more light fade from Corrin's eyes, every time Nohrian scouts return with blood wet on their weapons.

No place for romance amongst all that. But when the army makes camp of a night, the royal siblings' tents are arranged in a cluster with their retainers' tents forming a protective outer circle, always close at hand. It means that when Niles isn't on patrol, and Corrin isn't entangled in war meetings, it's not difficult to sneak some time together.

They've known each other for months, not years, so there's plenty left to learn. Niles tells stories of past missions he's done for Lord Leo – leaving out the nastier parts, focusing on the entertaining ones. Corrin, having spent most of his life locked in that fortress, doesn't have many colourful tales to share, but he's a good audience. There's nobody else who'd encourage Niles to talk so much, rather than wanting him to shut up and listen.

Not that talking is all they do. For variety, Niles brings a pack of cards and teaches Corrin a few games (the strip versions, naturally). Next, they borrow a chess set. Niles himself is no grand master, too impulsive and lacking strategic vision, but it seems like Corrin is on a similar skill level...that is, until enough pieces are captured to get him down to his underwear. Suddenly he rallies, eliminates _every single one_ of Niles' pieces until there's nothing left to give but promises of favours, and then takes the king with a quiet, wonderfully mischievous smile. Niles falls even more in love with him, right there.

Still smiling, Corrin leans over the board until they're _almost_ close enough to kiss, and asks to cash in some favours straight away. That, of course, is another excellent way to spend their time.

It's not like with anybody else. He used to place sex in the same category as violence, potentially fun but not necessarily _nice_. That's why it's easy to use aggressive flirting as a weapon, driving people off, disgusted expressions smearing across their faces. On the occasions he did take it further, he only thought of what advantages he could get for himself. Anonymous clashes of bodies. He didn't see anything wrong with that, no more than any of the other views he'd picked up with his gang of thieves.

Then he jumped into bed with a sheltered prince, head full of pacifism and poetry, and it actually made him happy. The world is a strange place.

Clothes and chess pieces scattered on the floor, and the light that was lost in Corrin's eyes rekindles, at least for a while. Niles wasn't sure how difficult it would be, this whole 'marriage' thing, since it's not like he's had any shining examples to learn from. So far though, it feels like they're doing a pretty good job of it.

 

* * *

 

The climate in Hoshido is markedly different to Nohr, with days of oddly warm rain, and others of cloudless skies and blistering sunshine. For a lazy picnic stroll that would be lovely, but not for a marching force of thousands, burdened with heavy armour and supply packs. Rest stops beside lakes and rivers are welcome, everyone taking the chance to refill canteens, let horses drink, cool sunburned faces and soak aching feet.

Some relish a swim, if time and energy allows and the water isn't fast-flowing. Not Corrin though, since he never learned, the Northern Fortress having nothing deeper than a bathtub to splash around in. Instead he sits at the water's edge, watching Leo and Xander further out. Their sisters are upstream, with Selena and Effie standing guard and threatening awful things to anyone who'd ogle (Corrin doesn't think anyone would be that rude or daring).

Satisfied there are no Hoshidan soldiers nearby, he's set cloak and armour aside. Trousers rolled up to allow paddling, riverside pebbles smooth beneath his bare toes, shirt collars unbuttoned to enjoy the balmy air against his skin. It's a shame Niles couldn't idle here too, but he has duties elsewhere, and it wouldn't be fair to drag him away all the time and leave Leo without a retainer.

Sharply breaking that line of thought, Iago materialises at Corrin's side. Fully dressed, with a thinly-veiled air of disapproval which might be towards the act of swimming, or it might be towards Corrin's existence in general. Strangely, Corrin doesn't mind that. Given a choice, he'd prefer to get along with people, but he's not really sorry that a man like Iago doesn't approve of him.

“Lord Corrin. The King thinks we've rested for long enough. If you and your brothers could conclude these frivolities, the army can resume its march.” There's the slightest hesitation before the word 'brothers', as if it's a jibe, to remind Corrin they don't share blood. If so, it misses the mark.

“Already? All right then.” Corrin stands, raising an arm to wave to Xander and Leo – but before he can catch their attention, Iago speaks again.

“That's an interesting piece of jewellery. Something...sentimental?”

Corrin's heart lurches. As he stood up, the wedding ring must have fallen outside his shirt, now sparkling on its chain in plain sight. He tucks it away, trying not to look as if he's been caught at anything. “Sentimental? I suppose. It's a trophy, from one of the first Hoshidan soldiers I killed.” He surprises himself with how smoothly a lie can flow from his tongue, despite the bitter taste. _Salt the earth. I killed them gladly. I am King Garon's loyal son._

“Is that so? In any case, we march in thirty minutes. Stragglers won't be accommodated.” With that, Iago turns on his heel and strides away.

Corrin watches him leave, trying to read signs of doubt. Was there a note of sarcasm in the 'is that so'? Was it a good enough story? Taking war trophies is something Corrin would never do, not in a thousand years, but does Iago know that?

Even if he did suspect it was a wedding ring, he'd still have to figure out who held the matching one, wouldn't he? So...maybe it's nothing to worry about. Maybe it's paranoid, to think he'd bother doing anything to hurt Niles, when he's supposed to be busy with the war efforts. Busy giving orders to slaughter innocent villagers, to ruin the lives of people he doesn't even know.

Corrin sighs, fingers circling over the gold, a mindless calming gesture. A few more weeks until they reach the capital. A few more weeks, and all this madness will be put to rest.

 

* * *

 

 A day comes when Corrin's force is marching near the back of the army, taking a reprieve from the vanguard position they're usually pushed into by the King (and that's fine with Niles, who announces that he'll take whatever position is desired of him). The column is long, the view of terrain ahead obscured by hills. That's why the first sign of trouble they see is clouds of rising smoke, not a disturbance of people. Of course, by that point it's already too late.

It's half an hour before they reach the village. Long enough for Hans' squad – it was him taking vanguard, today – to grab anything of value, then lock the people in their houses and set them ablaze. Simple wooden walls and reed-thatched roofs offered no resistance. The air is hot, fouled with ashes. A trail of sticky, fly-luring blood leads to the well, where fresh corpses soak limply in the water, a few villagers who were cut down before the burning started.

In Niles' opinion, it's an unnecessary mess. If you're going to war, just kill your enemies and get it over with. Don't kill them horribly when they're only peasants, upset your commanders, and make a huge alert signal to any Hoshidan troops in the area, with all that smoke. Stupid.

In Corrin's opinion...well, he begins by asking brainless questions like 'what happened?' and 'where are the people?', desperately seeking a better answer than the one his eyes are giving him. Trying to believe the world isn't so bad a place. Niles would scoff at that, if it didn't make his heart sting to hear grief in Corrin's voice. Thankfully, the royal siblings are quick to close in before he can find Hans, make a scene, and crack the already-thin ice he's on with King Garon. Elise agreeing that it's horrible, Camilla and Leo claiming there's nothing they could have done to prevent it, carefully controlled in their sorrowful resignation.

“I'll handle this,” Xander announces, sternly surveying the wreckage. “I'll question Hans about why he thought this was necessary. I'll find out whether he was acting on Father's orders, at least.”

Probably he was. Even if he wasn't, probably the King thinks it's a great idea, burning random people alive. Niles keeps those thoughts to himself, on the outside of the circle, only present in his capacity as a retainer, not a spouse. He doesn't really view Corrin's family as in-laws, since they've had years to settle into a master-servant hierarchy (well, aside from Lord Leo, he barely spoke to the other three). Maybe in time that will change, but not yet.

It's frustrating, to watch Corrin's distress and be unable to reach out. But what would Niles do, anyway? He's hardly full of soothing words, to put a smile back on somebody's face. Corrin's siblings have a lifetime's practice at that already, so better to let them handle it. Frustrating, yet also a relief, given no chance to disappoint.

One last glance in Corrin's direction, and then he turns away before someone asks why he's dawdling. After a brief stop to rest Hans' troops and pack up the loot – mostly basic foodstuffs like rice wine, radishes and beans – the army moves on, leaving behind the blackened, crumbling frames of the little farmhouses, with bones baked under the rubble. Niles follows Leo, who isn't patrolling the same area as Corrin, so there's no opportunity to speak, whether or not either of them wants to. And that's the end of it.

Or it would be, if Niles was married to anyone else.

That evening, Corrin is found in his tent, reading – or at least attempting to, sitting and staring at an open book. Beside a lamp is an untouched cup of tea, with an aroma of chamomile and honey, obviously a servant's effort to lift his mood. He glances up at Niles, and offers a soft, weary smile as he walks in. “Ah, hello.”

“I'm not disturbing you, am I?”

Corrin shakes his head, setting the book aside without bothering to mark his page, and stands.

“Good, then you can stop moping about those dead villagers,” Niles says. At Corrin's confused expression, taken aback at such blunt instruction, he continues, “They don't want some Nohrian prince's pity, do they? The only thing you can do that might please them, is to get the bastard that killed them.”

“Hans? You think I should challenge him to a duel?”

“A duel? Really, now. I wouldn't go for anything so formal. I'm just saying...warfare is messy. If you'd ever like to get rid of somebody like that, it's not impossible.” In case that still isn't clear enough, he rests a hand on the dagger fastened to his belt.

“Niles... Thank you, but no. I don't think that's the way to go about it.”

“Oh, well. Suit yourself then.” He shrugs, as if it were only an offhand thought. As if he doesn't have a few plans of attack already. One stray, treacherous arrow flying the wrong way across the battlefield is all it would take, or a blade in the dark of night, perhaps a bloody shuriken left in some conveniently visible place to deflect blame. Nothing he hasn't done before (though if circumstances allowed, he'd prefer to kill any tormentor of Corrin's in a slower, more _elaborate_ manner). But if Corrin says no, then it can wait.

“I will stop moping, though. Because you're right, that won't help anybody either.”

“There we go. Aren't you a good boy,” Niles says, grinning when Corrin pouts at the teasing praise. He steps closer, cups Corrin's cheek and kisses him (tenderly, the way Niles has never kissed anybody else, because they never earned or wanted it).

A sigh, and Corrin relaxes against him, arms slipping under Niles' cloak for an embrace, eyes closed as if this is the safest place in the world. He's the only one who'd act this way, even after that conversation.

A sensitive soul like this should have crumbled under Niles' influence, but instead, Niles finds himself the one changing. Corrin is naive, too willing to believe in others, leaving himself wide open to hurt and lies. And things do hurt him. He grieves, frets, has his own goodness kicked back in his face. Yet he stubbornly picks himself up, choosing to endure the pain rather than change his mindset. Niles wants to call it stupid, claim that anyone who doesn't try to protect themselves deserves whatever they get. But he can't.

It's courage, and generosity. Trying to make a change, rather than cowering and bowing to the status quo. And if Corrin won't protect his own heart, fine. Niles will do it for him, as best he can. Even if all he's allowed to use are soft words and touches, these tools he's woefully unpractised with compared to the simple solution of violence. He made audacious promises when he proposed – to make Corrin happier than anyone else – and even more during the wedding ceremony. He doesn't want to be a liar.

He never thought he'd even be capable of sentiments like this.

 

* * *

 

Hoshidans have begun burning their crops to stop the Nohrian troops foraging, taking advantage of their bounty. Once-beautiful green and golden fields, reduced to charred twigs. Corrin doesn't know firsthand about farming, but he's heard it's difficult, and people's lives can revolve around planting and harvesting, watching the crops they've nurtured grow tall and ripe. It's all so sad.

He does his best not to dwell on it. He doesn't want friends and family to worry, trying to comfort him all the time, as if his pain is more important than those people whose lives are being torn apart. Niles' approach is a little harsher, but he's right. It's best to focus on stopping the ones who want this devastation. Nothing else will help. In the meantime, the pain – the bleak, exhausting weight embedded in his chest – simply has to be endured.

It's some relief that Corrin's group has been pulled from rearguard duty, and placed at the head of the army again (he wonders if that was Xander's influence, or an independent choice by King Garon). It means they're most likely to get the scout reports of villages or other landmarks in their path, a chance to take the initiative before anyone more bloodthirsty swoops in. Small mercies.

During the daily march all the royals ride horses, as a mark of rank and for extra mobility (and because having Camilla swooping overhead on her wyvern would be impractical, albeit impressive). Unlike swimming, Corrin did learn to ride, if only around the Northern Fortress' courtyards at first. He likes horses; they have dark, understanding eyes, and don't go out of their way to harm anyone.

That's why he and Camilla can ride side by side, talking as they make their way down the road, at just enough of a distance from the troops to make the conversation private.

“So, how is it to be married? Is that man treating my dear brother properly?”

“Er, yes? I'm very happy, thank you.” And where Niles is concerned, he _is_ happy, although this line of questioning has him wary, wondering where she's going to take it. Somewhere embarrassing, probably.

“Good. Because I warned him that if he ever makes you sad, I'll cut off his manhood,” Camilla says sweetly, with absolutely no indication she's joking.

“That's... Please tell me you didn't really say that to him.”

“I whispered it in his ear during your wedding celebrations.”

Corrin winces. Thankfully, if there's anybody who won't scare easily from strange threats like that, it's Niles. Or so he hopes. “Gods. Camilla, you can't cut any part of Niles off.”

“And I won't, so long as he never makes you sad.” She puts on a motherly voice, like she's explaining something simple to a child, and he knows that's as far as this argument will get. He wonders at what point in the celebrations she said it. Probably before she drank too much wine, and started tearfully rambling that her baby brother was all grown up and didn't need her. Still...she means well. He'll reassure Niles that she means well.

“Heeey!” Elise's call makes Corrin jump, accidentally giving his reins a sharp tug and startling the horse, too. It snorts, ears flicking in agitation. “What are you two talking about?”

“Hi, Elise.” He pats the horse's neck in apology, trying to look unruffled. She trots up to ride on his other side, carrying a parasol trimmed with black lace and pink ribbons. “We were just discussing, uh...”

“We were gossiping about Corrin's new favourite person,” Camilla replies cheerfully.

“Ooh, I wanna join in! Corrin, how many kids are you going to have?”

“What?” Corrin blinks, thrown off by the question. He'd thought things were already weird enough, but no, somehow this conversation is sliding even further downhill. “We're not – I mean, Elise, I don't know if anyone's ever explained this subject to you, but two men-”

“I know _that_ , silly! I mean how many are you gonna adopt?”

“We've not really thought about that.” And he can't picture Niles being thrilled by it. Corrin himself likes the idea of being a father one day, since he's always treasured the family around him, but he wouldn't push it onto somebody who wasn't interested. He loves being with Niles, no matter whether it's just the two of them, or more.

“Well you should! I wanna be cool Auntie Elise.”

“Oh my, can you imagine how adorable Corrin's children would be? I think my heart would burst just looking at them.” Camilla beams, taking to the idea. She'd be the type of aunt to sneak sweets to children before dinnertime, and buy puppies and ponies as birthday presents, for certain. It's a prospect that manages to be both heartwarming and daunting.

“I'm...going to check how another part of the army is doing,” Corrin mutters, and makes his escape to a chorus of giggles. Suddenly it feels like a blessing that Niles doesn't have any relatives, more sisters to add to the mischief.

It's not a topic to think seriously about yet. Once the war is over, and children can grow up settled and safe, maybe then. Once there'd be no fear of leaving them orphaned, if their parents never came home from battle, or kidnapping by enemy agents who'd lock them up in a lonely tower. He wonders how long that will take to be true, and the dark weight in his chest throbs and drags at him again.

 

* * *

 

Even at night, the army's camp is seldom truly quiet. Somewhere soldiers on late guard patrols will be grumbling, camp followers will be washing pots, laundering, mending weapons, or a tethered wyvern will shriek to the unfamiliar stars. Here in the royal circle, it's more peaceful than most places, and since Niles' duties are finished he's free to spend the rest of the night with Corrin. At first it was difficult, adjusting to sleeping beside someone else without fear they'd stab him in the back and steal his wallet. Now, he almost pines for it when schedules don't allow them to be together.

This night, however, isn't peaceful. Niles is awoken by a jolt, and instinctively reaches for the knife hidden under his pillow – except it isn't there, because this isn't his pillow. As his vision adjusts to the gloom, he can discern Corrin sitting up, like something disturbed him.

“Everything okay?”

“Hm? Yes, sorry. Only a bad dream. Sorry to wake you.”

Well, Niles understands bad dreams. He sits up too, slips an arm around Corrin's waist and holds him, chest to back. Feeling him breathe, warmth shared between skin (even if they felt inclined to wear nightclothes, Hoshidan nights are often too humid for that). He kisses Corrin's shoulder, lips brushing over the fine chain that carries his wedding ring. Trails a hand down his arm, linking their fingers together. Gestures that come so naturally now.

He still can't get over how different this is, compared to what he knew before. This is the one person who treats him gently, who brings out the gentleness in him as well, and he's not sure if Corrin himself understands the immensity of that gift.

Haltingly, Corrin begins to speak again. “I...dreamed about everyone that's dead because of me. Because I came into their lives. When I think of the future, living happily with you and my family... I don't really deserve that when there's blood on my hands, do I? And I know there's going to be more, before this war is over. No matter how hard I try, it feels inevitable.”

Niles frowns, considering different ways he could reply to that. It's a weighty topic to launch at someone who's barely woken up. “What is it we deserve then, us people with blood on our hands?”

“Ah – I didn't mean...”

“I know you didn't. But even if you aren't aware of all the terrible things in my past, you can imagine, can't you? And I've had far less noble aims than ending a war. Yet here we are. So am I getting something _I_ don't deserve, too?” Honestly, a lot of people would say yes, and he wouldn't blame them. A shady piece of street trash shouldn't get a _happily ever after_ with anyone, let alone someone as good as Corrin. But their opinions aren't the ones that count here.

He already knows Corrin isn't bothered by his past, only his future. Their future. Corrin believes in peace and reconciliation, not eternal punishment and immortal grudges, so it's unclear where this sudden bout of guilt comes from. One set of standards for everybody else, and a harsher set for himself?

“No, of course not! No.” Corrin falls quiet for a moment, considering. “I just wonder if things could be better, if I'd made different choices. Or wasn't here at all. If I've made things worse unintentionally.”

“I hope you're only saying that to be melodramatic, and don't truly believe it.”

“Huh?” Corrin shifts, turning to face Niles, though with the darkness it's hard to see each other's expressions. Maybe that wasn't the type of answer he'd expected.

“Admittedly, I'm biased. But if you can doubt yourself enough to question your whole existence, then you aren't thinking clearly.” It feels ridiculous for Niles to be explaining this. Corrin may not be the most worldly-wise of men, but he's not an idiot. There's no way he can genuinely think they'd all be better off without him.

“...Yeah, maybe you're right.” The agreement sounds half-hearted, and Niles wonders if it was the right thing to say, after all. “Things will seem better in the morning, I'm sure.”

With that, he unlinks their hands, lies down and assumes a pose of sleep again. Well, fair enough. People are seldom at their most optimistic in the middle of the night, so best to consider the debate over.

Nevertheless, Niles feels a nagging dissatisfaction, as if he barely scraped by in a test he was meant to excel at.

 

* * *

 

The Nohrian army makes steady progress, but doesn't have things all its own way. When a scouting party fails to return, Corrin and his retainers are sent to investigate, finding a quartet of headless corpses. From the look of it, the scouts were caught unawares while resting, eating their lunch rations. There's also a broken flute on the ground, and he realises with a jolt that he knew one of the scouts – not very well, but he'd seen a man playing that flute in camp of an evening, to cheer the other soldiers' spirits.

He feels the _crack,_ more than hears it. Quietly, he nods along with words of regret from Kaze and Felicia. They return to the main army to report, and with so many people around Corrin is forced to wait until sundown, to check the dragonstone in the privacy of his tent (he desperately misses the astral realm, the cosy treehouse, but travelling there now would risk its discovery by hostile eyes – perhaps it would even be commandeered as a war resource, insulting Lilith's memory).

The gem is a liquid silver-blue colour, faintly shining, thin cracks webbing the surface. More than there were yesterday, but it hasn't been flawless for some time. The closer they get to Castle Shirasagi, the more suffering he sees, the worse it grows. He doesn't know what will happen if it breaks, but somehow can't feel much urgency, concerns for his own well-being muffled, wrapped in cotton and buried in a drawer at the back of his mind, as if they're fine clothes he can only afford to wear on special occasions.

Instead he tries to force himself into a productive fame of mind, with maps of Hoshido to study and books on historical warfare borrowed from Leo. Ten days or less until they reach the Great Wall of Suzanoh, the last major obstacle en route to the capital. In the grand scheme of things, ten days is barely anything. Few enough days to count on his fingers. That's a positive thing, isn't it?

Words and pictures waver before his eyes, defying concentration. He turns to a book of poetry instead, something lighter, yet in every theme there's an echo of his troubles: family, betrayal, mourning. The weight in his chest overwhelms, crushing the breath from him.

“Knock, knock!”

Elise's voice snaps him back to the present. He hastily rubs at his eyes, straightens his posture, hides the cracked dragonstone before she comes bouncing in. This being a tent, there was no door for her to actually knock on, simply canvas to lift aside.

“Hello, Elise.” He smiles for her, hoping it looks more authentic than it feels. “What's new?”

“I need to borrow a ribbon,” she announces, looking around as if she expects to see a basket of them lying handily within reach. There's only his table covered in maps and books, the Yato in its scabbard, his bedroll and wash basin and other necessities.

“Uh, I don't have any. Try Camilla?”

“No, it needs to come from you! I'm making a friendship bracelet for Sakura.” That would be confusing, if Corrin hadn't already heard about Elise's 'secret' meetings with the captive Hoshidan princess, to try and make her comfortable. He'd be glad that at least two of his opposing siblings had managed to set their differences aside, if the circumstances around it weren't so depressing. “Here, I'll cut a bit off your cloak instead.”

“Wait-” he begins, but too late, she's already set to it with a dainty pair of scissors, snipping away a line of blue cloth.

“Don't worry, nobody will notice that much is missing. Now I can braid it with the other colours, see?”

“I'm not sure that's the only issue. I mean, she might not want anything from me...” He's certain she wouldn't want him to visit her. Even if she did, he wouldn't be able to, not without Iago hissing about him being a Hoshidan sympathiser, casting his loyalties into deeper doubt with King Garon. Much as he hates it, it's impossible (and his comrades warned him as much, before he had a chance to try). He prays that one day she'll understand.

Some of the bounce fades from Elise's manner, matching his more sombre attitude. She pats his arm, saying, “You're still our big brother, Corrin, no matter what.”

“Elise... Thank you. I hope she likes the bracelet. Make sure the guards don't see it though, okay?”

“Duh! Me and Niles, we're the Princess Sakura Protection Squad. We've got this covered.”

Well, that wasn't a name he expected to be dropped into this. “Niles? What's he doing?”

“You didn't know? Sakura said that some strange guy with an eyepatch keeps coming by to check her guards out. If they're jerks, he gets rid of them. I thought you'd asked him to do that.”

“No, I...” Corrin's voice trails off. He didn't think of anything like that, and it stirs a pang of guilt, because he _should_ have – but layered over that is gratitude. The darkness within him melts like wax from a candle's glow, and this time his smile is genuine. “Sakura is lucky to have you both on her side. And so am I.” And he means it. For every cruelty he bears helpless witness to, somewhere there's a gesture of kindness to balance it out. So long as that stays true, there's hope for all of them, isn't there?

“You know it! So anyway, have you decided how many kids yet?”

“...Elise, no.”

 

* * *

 

At first the estate seems deserted, all inhabitants fled into the forested valleys that surround it. Then, drawing closer, they see a small, ragged line of figures. Stoop-backed men and women in servants' garb, clutching pitchforks and spades, a few with katanas that look like they were forged generations ago. The ones too old to run, making a last stand, buying their children and grandchildren time to escape. Noble, and pitiable.

Corrin, Lord Leo and Lady Camilla were sent to scout this place, to ensure it wasn't harbouring anyone dangerous, capable of harassing the army as it passes along a nearby road. Clearly that's not the case, but they can't simply turn around and leave, in case another squad swings by later to double-check. What to do with these people, then? Not Niles' decision. Once again he's only here as a professional, waiting for orders.

Predictable to a fault, Corrin steps forward and asks them to surrender, promising they won't be harmed (and if he's afraid that someone else will come along and rip that promise to pieces, like they have before, he doesn't show it). They spit on the ground near his bare feet, raise their shabby weapons in defiance, and claim there's still one good fight left in them.

Corrin sighs, but stands firm. “Everyone, disarm them. There must be somewhere they can hide until the army marches past.”

“We'd rather die than cower in hiding while you trample through our lands!”

“I'm sorry you feel that way, but it won't be my troops that give you death.” Corrin draws his sword, and the others follow suit.

It doesn't take much to disarm a gaggle of grandparents. They're belligerent enough that their hands need to be tied, before Corrin's retainers lead them off to find a suitable hiding place. Aside from the main mansion, there are plenty of smaller buildings scattered about: stables and coops, sheds to stack firewood, smoke fish, or fill other mysterious functions. If they'd chosen to sit tight in one of those, maybe they'd never have been discovered. Maybe they were afraid of being trapped though, hearing of how Nohrian soldiers like to play with fire.

Niles follows the remaining troops in a brief exploration of the mansion. If nothing else, they might find useful bits of loot to earn bonus points with the king. Supply lines aren't an option to support the army, this far into Hoshido.

The style of housing here is markedly different to Nohr's, from construction materials down to the paintings on the walls. There are signs of a hasty retreat, as well: half-eaten platters of food abandoned at a low table, open cupboards with contents strewn over the floor. Their group divides, then divides again, increasingly confident they won't encounter trouble. Camilla and her retainers take one path across a courtyard, Leo and Odin a corridor leading left, Corrin and Niles the right branch.

That's when they discover an interesting room. No windows, no furniture save the collection of items displayed on stands and frames. Most have a uniquely Hoshidan look, drums and pipes and stringed instruments that Niles couldn't name, but a few pieces are clearly foreign. Like the Nohrian grand piano that dominates the space, lacquered wood gleaming black as oil.

“Well, well. I wonder how they smuggled _that_ across the border. If someone back home got caught with these Hoshidan instruments, it'd raise some awkward questions.”

“It's sad that there'd be any questions at all. Music doesn't have anything to do with politics or war. It's only meant for people to enjoy.” Corrin sits down at the piano stool, runs his fingers lightly over the keys, then plays a series of clear, fluid notes. A melody emerges, simple to begin with, then steady and complex, though there's no sheet music to guide it. He seems to forget where they are for the moment, and Niles is content to stand and listen. He's no connoisseur – he only hears this type of thing at noble parties, and he'd only attend those to guard Lord Leo, or in past years to rob the guests – but it's rather beautiful, all the same.

“I didn't know you were the musical type,” Niles says, once the piece finishes.

“All of us learned as part of our tutoring. Camilla plays the harp, Leo plays violin, and Xander...I'm not sure what he plays, actually. He prefers his sword drills over anything artistic.”

“And Lady Elise?”

Corrin's expression becomes mildly pained, as if reliving a memory he'd rather forget. “The clarinet. Sort of. She certainly makes noises come out of it.” He plays a few more idle notes. “You'd be good at this, though. I mean you're good with your han – no, not like that.” He cuts off the obvious comment before Niles can swoop in. “I mean, not that you aren't, but...” He gives a flustered wave, as if to shoo the unfinished sentence away. “It takes dexterity, that's what I mean, and so do archery and lockpicking.”

Niles laughs. “Goodness, I don't even need to speak any more! You do all the teasing by yourself.”

Corrin sighs, accepting defeat, and they lapse into a warm silence interspersed by fragments of piano music, taking advantage of this unexpected peace. When he stops playing, Niles takes one of his hands, bows and kisses the back of it, the way a chivalrous knight might do when paying a compliment. The gesture wins a smile, because Corrin can't resist anything romantic like that – and Niles can't resist that smile, softly handsome and only for him. He leans closer, and –

A shuffle of feet catches Niles' attention. Instantly alert, he whirls towards the door, and glimpses an unfamiliar Nohrian soldier vanishing into the corridor. So another squad did get sent to check on them, after all. Frowning, he moves to chase after the man, find out how much he spied.

Out in the corridor there's a whole group of soldiers milling about, sticking their heads into rooms and gesturing directions to each other (and not being stealthy about it; Niles must have been critically distracted, not to notice their presence sooner). He didn't get a good enough look to identify the right one. He curses under his breath, and looks back to Corrin with a helpless shrug. Their little island of calm had sunk; back to the business of war.

 

* * *

 

Corrin wakes without Niles' arms around him, but that's not uncommon. Retainers normally wake earlier than their lieges. So while it's not the morning routine he'd prefer, he dresses and eats breakfast alone (aside from Jakob, who pours extra tea with expert poise, and clears away the empty dishes). He steps out of his tent, into the general bustle of the camp beneath skies filled with hazy, golden-edged clouds, soaking up the sunrise. A new day, and he can always hope that things will go well.

“Corrin.”

From the tone of Leo's voice, he knows it's bad news. So much for hoping. Corrin turns to greet his brother, who continues: “There was a surprise move earlier this morning, from our side. Iago sent out a unit to capture the pass to Akamura.”

“What?” The name rings a bell. The army was considering that route a few days ago, a shortcut to the capital, but scouts reported enemy troops in the area. The village of Akamura isn't heavily fortified, but the pass itself is narrow, a difficult piece of terrain with cliffs on one side and a deep river on the other, perfect for Hoshidans to stage a crippling ambush. Even King Garon had to admit that if they headed there, there'd be too many Nohrian casualties.

“Iago claimed that a smaller group might be able to slip through the pass, circle around and engage the enemy in a surprise attack. It's nonsense, though. They'll be caught and slaughtered.” Leo's already-grave expression becomes sterner. “He commanded some of the royal retainers to lead the unit.”

Corrin's blood ices over. He reaches unconsciously for the wedding ring, hidden beneath his armour. “Yours?”

“And Elise's. But yes, I heard he was especially insistent about mine.”

“We have to stop them.”

“Too late. They were rounded up sometime in the night, and left before dawn.”

“I'm going after them, then!”

“You have your own orders, Corrin. You're heading out in the opposite direction, towards-”

“No, I'm not!”

“Corrin. You know what Father will do if you disobey. Even if we all speak up, I'm honestly not sure if we'll be able to get you off the hook again.” It's a harsh reminder, but...he's right. If it weren't for the support of his siblings, Corrin would have been executed a long time ago. They've even offered to die in his place, a last gamble to shock the king out of his foulest moods. They should never have to do that; he shouldn't knowingly put them in that position. Those thoughts wrench Corrin's heart, as Leo continues to speak. “We can try to send more troops after them, stealthily, and...” Leo's voice trails off. They can try, but they'll be scrambling to catch up.

Into the silence, Corrin says simply, “I can't leave my husband to die.” It feels halfway like a plea, to pull reality into a better shape.

“I'm sorry. It's not as if I'm pleased about it myself. Still, they're far from weak, so it's not impossible they'll manage to get away when things turn sour.”

No, that's not good enough. He recalls his previous nightmare, the grim parade of all the people who've already died on his behalf, or almost died. His real father, Sumeragi – maybe if there hadn't been a small child to protect, he'd have been free to fight Garon off. Silas was almost executed, because his selfish friend wanted to sneak out of the Northern Fortress to play. Gunter's plunge into the Bottomless Canyon, his survival a miracle. His mother speared through with dark magic, dying in his arms. The Rainbow Sage, choosing to fade before Corrin was forced to murder him. Lilith, another sacrifice to shield him. Sakura, still alive for the time being, but chained in misery.

Did the Yato know, or foresee these events when it chose him? Is this how a path to peace is laid? Watching people hurt, being sad and sorry and promising himself things will someday be better. Marching bravely on, leaving love in a hastily-dug grave. He can't live with that, not this time.

He feels the dragonstone _crack_ , a final hammer-blow of anguish piercing the gem's core and shattering its enchantments, the threads that bind him safely to humanity. It's almost a relief, being able to say it's now outside his control. There's a sensation in his mind of ebbing pressure, like exhaling a long-held breath. Like giving up the struggle to balance on a cliff's edge, and falling forward into free space.

He pulls out the stone's remains from its pocket, dulled glassy fragments clinking in his palm as he shows them to Leo. “...Here. That's my excuse for going, when they ask.”

Leo's eyes widen, resignation animating into alarm. “Isn't that your dragonstone? How long has that been damaged?”

“Just now. It's been in poor condition for a while, but... Please don't tell Azura, or let her come after me. She needs to be with you when you take the capital, when Father sits on the throne. You'll see why.” It feels so easy, all of a sudden. Decisive acceptance of what he needs to do, because the thought of _not_ doing it is literally breaking him apart.

“Brother...”

“It'll be okay. You understand, right?”

Leo pauses, looking as if he's preparing for a fresh chain of argument, but then reconsiders and shakes his head, managing a rueful smile. “Not entirely, but I can see your mind's made up. I'll try to stop anyone from Iago's side chasing after you. Good luck.”

That's okay, since Corrin doesn't want him to understand entirely. He doesn't want anyone else to share this feeling, that if Niles doesn't survive then he doesn't think he can, either.

Dragon horns twist up from his head as he rides out of camp, shaped by the negative air from every doubting look, every call that his business is elsewhere today. His hands reform into claws, a strange feral edge colouring his thoughts, making the horse beneath him fidget and weave fretfully, so that he struggles to keep it on a steady course. It senses something isn't right. Terrible things might happen if he changes fully into a dragon, without the failsafe of Azura's song – but he doesn't think it will go that far, not if Niles is okay. And if it does...

For some things, blooming love is equally potent to ancient magic. He believes that.

He pushes to horse to a gallop, pleading with it for speed. The cliffs are a hand's-width line on the horizon, and would take hours to reach at a walking pace. Anxiety hammers at him, fraying his thoughts, wondering what's happening to Niles right now. If he's reached the pass yet, if he's engaged in battle. When the horse tires and Corrin is forced to let it slow, he bites his lip in frustration and shocks himself with the taste of blood, teeth sharpened to draconic fangs.

The route to the pass is easy to follow, a well-trodden road with wild lilies growing at its edges. White petals, bright sunlight on the river, the beauty of it surreal when he thinks of what lies ahead.

The first corpse he finds is there, floating in the tranquil shallows of the river bank, hair streaming in the current. A Nohrian soldier, with Hoshidan arrows sticking up like reeds from their chest and throat. He spurs the horse on.

From there, the road becomes heavily trampled, treacherous with caltrops. Shining metal points and dark splashes of blood in the thick clay soil. The cliffs grow nearer, narrowing the landscape, creating a natural funnel into the pass. Finally, with mixed relief and dread he sees the battle.

The Nohrian troops are outnumbered and badly pressed, beset by Hoshidans from both sides of the path. Caught in the ambush Leo had predicted – that anyone could have predicted. Clashing steel, shouts of triumph and pain, a miserable cacophony. Corrin strains to glimpse Niles, but before he's close enough some of the Hoshidans turn on him, seeing a single, unsupported enemy. Archers let loose a volley, but he raises an arm, feels arrows glance like raindrops off the silver, plated scales that have replaced his skin.

He sees Niles. White hair, blue cloak, somehow in constant acrobatic motion despite the limited space, pausing barely long enough to aim before dodging the enemy's counterattacks. The retainers are clustered together, Arthur and Effie making a front line of axes and armour while Niles and Odin fire arrows and spells over their heads, trying to punch through one wing of the enemy and gain an escape route. Right before Corrin's eyes, another Nohrian soldier falls to join the clustered dead.

There was no need for this. No logic, no tactical gain, an excuse so thin that even the naivest mind could see right through to the twisted bones of it. These people were sent here to die because one of them loves him, because they're at the mercy of monsters who want them to be monsters too. The dragon inside is screaming – and then it's not inside anymore, everything blurring silver and red, surging forwards. Hoshidans scatter, some knocked into the river, some trampled aside, it doesn't matter since nobody is the enemy here, really. Or everybody is the enemy. The dragon shreds at the man's sense of self, his thoughts, his purpose. All it knows is that a terrible thing is happening, and needs to stop.

A figure in red cowers on the ground. The dragon raises its talons for a crushing strike – but someone else rushes in, smacks the red-clad one roughly aside, out of reach.

“Hey! You're the one who made the no-killing rule. Play fair, now.”

This person. He knows this person, but... The dragon hesitates, racked with uncertainty, then snarls and lunges, seeking the simplest solution.

 

* * *

 

From the instant this mission was shoved on him – while he was supposed to be making a standard, late-night patrol of the royal camp – Niles knew something was wrong. But with the royals themselves all sound asleep, unable to overrule it, there was no choice but to obey. Be a good little soldier and try to survive.

When he saw Corrin charging towards them, albeit alone and clearly in one of those moods where his heart overrules his head, things seemed less bleak. The dragon shattered one half of the Hoshidan trap they were caught in, and when some soldiers tried to swing around and spear him, Odin's spells blasted them down. The Nohrians cheered, keen for a chance to live beyond the next ten minutes. Niles cheered too, because who doesn't enjoy it when your heroic last stand becomes a heroic rescue?

But something is wrong here, as well. Corrin doesn't back off like he ought to, to let the Nohrians escape. Instead he keeps attacking, stamping and thrashing heedless to friend or foe. The remaining Hoshidans on his side break and flee, and still he doesn't stop, tail swiping their feet from beneath them and horns tossing them like straw dolls. Even in the shape of a dragon, Corrin doesn't normally act like a beast, isn't this violent or erratic.

“Niles, get back!”

Niles dodges the dragon's lunge, but instead of getting back he edges sideways, scouting for clues (and trying not to trip over corpses). Superficial scratches, trickles of blood; no serious wounds, nothing that comes close to explaining this frenzy. “Oh, you think he's grouchy now? You should see him first thing in the morning,” he replies, falsely cheerful. “Something the matter, Lord Corrin? I'm all for animal passions, you know, but this is a bit much.”

It's way too much. At least the Hoshidans have enough sense to retreat, leaving the Nohrians to deal with their rampaging dragon. Probably they won't go far, spying from a safe distance. Yes, they claim to be miles ahead of Nohr when it comes to honour and fair play, but this is still warfare – and in Niles' experience, those who shout loudest about honour are often the ones you can trust least (with a few genuine exceptions like Corrin, of course).

Not that Corrin seems too interested in that, right now. The dragon circles Niles warily, as if calculating the best moment to strike out again. He searches its face for fragments of his husband's awareness, but there's nothing. His brave, trusting, gentle Corrin, lost in madness.

“I fear some sinister curse has befallen our fine leader! The beast within has truly been unleashed, with an indiscriminate thirst for blood!”

“Thanks, Odin. I hadn't figured that out,” Niles mutters, through gritted teeth. How the hell are they supposed to deal with this? Knock him out, truss him up like an enormous chicken and hope he snaps out of it? But if they disable the dragon, those Hoshidans might swoop back in to continue the fight, so they'll all end up dead anyway.

No sooner has the thought flitted through his head then there's a flash of crimson uniforms, a few Hoshidan stragglers rising from some cliffside hole they'd hidden in, sprinting for their lives. The dragon turns, attention diverted. Like a wilderness predator, ignoring the target who'd been standing up to face it, instead focusing on those fleeing, tempting it to chase.

“Corrin!” Niles yells in vain as the dragon breaks into a gallop. The wrong way, down the trail towards Akamura and further from the Nohrian army. Turning to his allies briefly, he snaps, “The rest of you, back to camp. Get the other royals out here.” They're the only ones he can envision helping here, as elite warriors, and as people who want to keep Corrin safe. _And if you see Iago_ , he's tempted to add, _tell him_ _that when_ I _get back,_ _I'm going to_ _get the biggest, nastiest weapon they have in the armoury, and shove it down his screaming throat._

“You're chasing Lord Corrin by yourself? That's a mighty task, friend!” Arthur calls.

“Then you'd better hurry, hadn't you?” Not waiting for replies, arguments or second-guesses, he races after the dragon. No time to think about how stupid a plan it is, barely even a plan so much as a gut reaction, not to let Corrin out of his sight. His quiver rattles on his back with each pace, already two-thirds empty, and each breath comes sharp with the pain of a shallow katana-slice on his side, beneath the ribs. The line of the cliff twists and turns, and with it the path; Corrin vanishes around a corner. Distant cries of fear from the Hoshidans.

Niles rounds the corner and the path widens out, cliffs shrinking to a jumble of rocky hills and gulleys. The dragon has caught up to the Hoshidans. One waves a naginata to fend it off, while the others have dropped their weapons. Idiots. Obviously Niles doesn't care if they live or die, but Corrin wouldn't want to kill them, if he was himself.

The dragon paces around them, tail twitching. Unaware of Niles for the moment, allowing him to sneak close. Preoccupied with their own survival, the Hoshidans don't react to him either, as he aims his bow.

Three arrows in a rapid-fire line, directly in front of the dragon's feet. An inhuman shriek as it rears up, startled – and unexpectedly, the Hoshidan with the naginata seizes an opportunity and lunges forward, aiming for its newly-exposed stomach.

A fourth arrow punches into the man's throat, dropping him, naginata tumbling harmlessly from dying hands. The rest of the Hoshidans scatter for a second time, leaving Niles cursing furiously, heart thudding hard enough to sicken him at what almost happened. Well, he's not taking the blame for _that_ death. How was he to know one of them had enough guts to try and stab a dragon?

This time the dragon doesn't chase the Hoshidans, instead turning to confront Niles. At least that's gotten everyone else out of the picture. Now it's just him against an increasingly furious monster. Lovely.

“Corrin–”

The dragon snaps, neck darting out like a snake's. Niles ducks to avoid it, but can't recover quick enough to dodge the following lash of its tail. It cracks across his chest like a whip, punches the air from his lungs, bruises layering over the katana wound. He staggers, managing a shallow gasp of breath that feels like inhaling fire, trying to ignore the heat of his own blood outside his skin. Wondering how long he can keep this up.

Not for the hours it will take for the other royals to reach them, certainly.

Maybe it's a stupid plan, but it feels right. If Corrin is in trouble, he's the one who should take care of it first. Even if others seem more qualified, he doesn't want to step back and watch from the sidelines. Even if he's not certain what to do, anything is better than nothing. Whatever happens to one of them, it's okay for the other to share in. That's why Corrin came after him. There's no way Niles could retreat and leave him like this.

Despite the danger, a feeling of contentment accompanies those thoughts, of acceptance.

“Just so you know, if you get too rough, I'll expect you to make it up later,” he tells the dragon. “Ahh, it's almost worth this, to anticipate the lovely ways you'll have to apologise.”

Is it his imagination, or do those words make it hesitate, just for a moment? Softer, seriously, he adds, “Really though, relax. I know you don't want to be like this. It's because when you're hurting, the easiest thing is to spread it around. I know. That was my whole life, once.” Not any more though, never again. Either he soothes this beast or lets it devour him, close its teeth around his heart in a gory, visceral metaphor. There's no third choice, because he doesn't need there to be. He'd be dead by now anyway, if Corrin hadn't come here. “I'm afraid we can't step back and let you do what's easy. We need you to be Corrin. The whole realm does.”

At that, the dragon definitely hesitates, listening to his words. Comprehending? Niles steps forward, hands held out. Agonising seconds of tension as they inch closer, the dragon's face unreadable, impossible to tell if it's truly calming down or trying to lure him in.

“Everyone needs you. Me, most of all,” Niles whispers, his soul in every word.

Contact, stillness. The gold of his wedding ring against silver scales.

Another step closer, and he rests his cheek against the dragon's. He wants to cry, to laugh with a joy that verges on hysteria, throw his stupid husband to the ground and kiss him senseless, as soon as he turns back into a human (he imagines trying that on the dragon, and laughter bursts free regardless, and he wipes at his good eye). Tension streaming away like melting ice. They're going to survive this.

The dragon's legs buckle as if struck by exhaustion, and it collapses into a crouch, body and tail curved in a semicircle to encompass Niles. It huffs quietly, and he interprets it as a sound of comfort. He can almost hear Corrin's voice behind it, saying his name.

 

* * *

 

Even a dragon can be tamed, if there's something precious enough to sway it, if it's young enough that the veil of madness lies thin. If there was enough goodness in it to begin with. Lulled into docility – by a creature without a single drop of draconic blood in his veins, yet still bright and fierce and worthy of this connection they share – there's no need to keep those gentler, human thoughts at bay. They trickle through, clarifying, and yes, they're more difficult to cope with than a beast's simple frenzies, knotted with concepts like guilt, conflicting loyalty and sorrow. But it's okay. Because this person is here, it's okay.

They walk slowly over foreign earth, unsure of where they're going, Niles' hand resting on Corrin's side. So long as he has that contact, he can remain himself.

Suddenly Niles halts, turning his head towards a distant noise. Corrin hears it too: footsteps on the rocky ground, low voices with Hoshidan accents. Some of the soldiers who'd fled earlier, returning to see how the incident with the dragon played out.

They haven't been spotted yet, but they will be. There's no foolproof hiding place within reach, and Corrin fears what another fight might lead to, prying away his grip on sanity.

Flight, then. The dragon bows down, fixes its gaze on Niles expectantly – unable to find its voice yet – and thankfully it doesn't take more than that for him to get the idea. With a glint of amusement in his eye, he leaps onto the dragon's back, and they take off at a gallop.

Niles laughs, shouting things that are half-lost amid the clatter of claws trampling loose stones. He feels so light, barely anything compared to when they're both human and evenly matched (yet the strength Corrin draws from him, the magnetism that draws Corrin to him, isn't lessened by that realisation). Corrin blocks out everything but him, not looking or listening for the soldiers – even if they give chase, they'll never keep up. He simply runs, carrying them to safety, miles vanished behind them in minutes.

Cresting a hill, the bright ribbon of the river appears in view, a welcome landmark. The dragon heads for it, not stopping at the bank, leaping with spread wings to cross the water, feeling a flow of cooler air beneath it. They tumble onto the other side, amidst beds of white lilies.

Drained, its work done, the dragon finds it's not so hard to fade back into its true shape.

“There you go,” Niles murmurs. His hands smooth over Corrin's back, where the wings have melted away. For a while all Corrin can do is lean against him and breathe, readjusting. “Fun as it is to watch you wreak mayhem, I didn't think that's what you really wanted to do, was it?”

Corrin smiles, gratitude welling up. He cradles Niles' face between his hands (battle-weary, smeared with blood and dirt, the most beautiful thing he's ever seen). “I knew you'd bring me back.”

“Same here.”

The kiss carries a wealth of emotion, passion kindled by conflict. They hadn't known if they'd ever be able to do this again. Niles responds keenly at first, but when Corrin's hand brushes his side, he breaks off with a subdued noise of discomfort. Looking down, Corrin's stomach wrenches at the sight of torn, red-stained fabric.

“You're hurt?”

“Don't worry, it's not going to kill me.”

“Shouldn't I bandage it up? Here...” Corrin pulls off one of his gauntlets and rips at his shirt sleeve, to make a wad of clean white cloth. Carefully, he presses it to the wound, resisting the impulse to draw back when Niles winces. Pressure stops bleeding, he remembers being told somewhere before (or maybe he read it in a book). Still, he can't help apologising.

“Let's add that to the debt you're going to make up later.” Niles gives a roguish wink. He may only have one eye, but sometimes you can _tell_ when it's a wink rather than a blink. There's no blood soaking through the cloth, which is a good sign.

“Do you think you can walk any further?”

“I could, if I had to. But I told the others to send back for your family, just in case. Rather than trying to find our way back to the army, we could wait to be found.”

Corrin hesitates, not keen on the idea of relying on them yet again. He left the camp under his own power, and aimed to return the same way. Still, compared to the risks of getting lost, stumbling into an enemy patrol, or making Niles' injuries worse... “Let's wait, then.” Normally it wouldn't work like that, royals answering the summons of a lowly retainer. They all approve of his match with Niles though, and know he has Corrin's best interests at heart. They wouldn't ignore him, not under these circumstances.

The two lie together amongst the greenery, heedless of how they're clumsily crushing flowers, pollen smeared on knees and cloaks and dusting pale hair (while the surrounding lilies gaze down, tall enough to shelter them). Air filled with fragrance and the river's lapping murmurs, sunshine warm on their faces. At first the tranquillity is welcome, but then it begins to leave room for intrusive thoughts, worries and what-ifs creeping in at the frayed edges of Corrin's mind.

“Niles? Can you keep talking, please? About anything.”

“Anything? Let's see...” Niles rests his head on the crook of his arm, with a lazy smile. “Once this war is over, we'll begin our real life as a married couple. That's one thing that will be an adventure for me, as much as you.”

“Yeah. I have lists of places to visit with friends and family, to make up for things I've missed out on. But you and I, let's make our own list.”

“And what sort of things should go on that?”

“Like, hmm... We'll have to choose a place to live. I'd like to go shopping and cook a meal together. And go dancing, and on romantic trips...” It doesn't matter that some of his wants are pitifully simple; they're still things neither has had before. Wandering through a marketplace, choosing ingredients for a picnic or candlelight supper. Twirling across a ballroom with music and sparkling laughter, people looking on in appreciation of what a perfect match they are. Ideas Corrin has definitely only read of in books, until now.

“Well, that all sounds perfectly doable. As for me, I'm happy just being by your side.”

A quiet breath of laughter from Corrin. He shifts closer, fingers curling absent-mindedly around lily leaves, one bare foot sliding over the ankle of Niles' boot. “Now I feel greedy for not saying that first.”

“So? Be greedy. I'll spoil you rotten.”

They kiss again, languidly. Niles nips at Corrin's lower lip; there's a mild sting where the dragon fang pierced earlier, but that's okay. Between the two of them, everything is okay.

Corrin reaches beneath his collar, finds the chain with his wedding ring and unfastens it, slipping it onto his finger where it belongs. “Since the secret's out, I can do this now, can't I?”

“I suppose you can.” A pause before Niles adds, “It might be wise to plan some damage limitation for our return, though.”

“Right. You failed to take the pass, and I wasn't meant to come after you...” He doesn't know what will happen when they rejoin the army. How to solve his liability now that he's without a dragonstone. How he'll explain running off against orders, in a way that keeps his head on his shoulders. How to protect Niles from Iago's petty malice. On principle, Corrin still doesn't relish the idea of daggers in the dark, but if that's what it takes then so be it. He wouldn't feel sorry, not after this.

“Hmm. Maybe we're best eloping into the Hoshidan countryside, instead?”

“We can't do that, Niles.”

“I know. What you need to do is distract the king from our failures. I'd start by slinging mud at someone else. For example...” Niles clears his throat and puts on a smooth faux-noble accent, a shade lighter than his normal voice. “Realising Iago's critical errors in judgement, I chose to follow our troops. Having surveyed the enemies and terrain closely with my own eyes, I believe there is indeed a way to capture the pass, if you follow _my_ plan rather than his.”

Corrin nods. “Garon does want to reach the capital as soon as possible, so that might appease him. The only problem is, I don't have a plan.”

“Well, you're the strategist, so I can't help there.”

“Let's see... We only fought infantry, didn't we? All the kinshi and pegasus knights have likely been pulled back to defend Suzanoh. But our cavalry are no good in small spaces, and wyverns will have difficulty too. So our diversity of troops isn't an advantage.” He tries to recall the exact shape of the cliffs in his mind's eye, but it's difficult, since he saw them through the dragon's fog of bloodlust. There must be guidelines for this type of battle, in one of his countless books. There must be lessons he's learned, from previous skirmishes. “Unless... We could send our wyverns up over the cliffs, bypassing enemy archers. They could fly straight to Akamura itself, try to evacuate the people, then burn the empty buildings. If the troops in the pass saw fires, they'd lose morale, possibly split up and send some of their number back. That would make it easier for us to fight through the pass.”

It's only the beginning of a plan, but there's time to refine it, nurture the seed until it blooms. Hours pass, the sun nearing the horizon, spindly insects with iridescent wings hovering by the water. Corrin watches them, wondering if it was the right choice to stay put. Help might not arrive until nightfall, now. The other retainers will have had a long trek to camp, carrying wounded, before they could even begin to tell their story. He considers opening the gate to the astral realm, taking the risk that its magical light might alert the enemy. Before he can act on that, however –

“Corrin!”

The cry comes from above, a gust of air staggering him, sending white petals swirling in frenzy. He barely has a chance to register the shadow of Camilla's wyvern before it swoops to land, his sister gathering him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“My poor darling! We were all simply frantic about you. Father said that if we couldn't get your dragon side under control, we'd have to put you down like a wild animal...” She glances aside, eyes misty. Corrin only feels sad, not surprised.

“You don't have to worry about that now. Niles saved me.”

He sees the look that passes from Camilla to Niles, soft and grateful – but doesn't expect her to follow by sweeping Niles into a hug as well, one arm around each of them (and almost as tall as them both, in formidable heels, her perfume overpowering the lilies' scent). Niles makes a vague noise of surprise, going along with it. They're all family now, aren't they?

Leo and Elise gallop up soon afterwards, along with Camilla's retainers. Greetings happen in a blur for Corrin, reassuring them that he's fine, trying to explain his version of events, struggling to put some parts into words. They wave aside his apologies for dragging them out here, as the glow from Elise's staff heals Niles' wounds. Leo tosses a gemstone to him, a new dragonstone intact and unblemished, with dry comments about how he should have realised it was simple enough to get another.

Corrin smiles in concession, studying the gem, noting slight differences in hue and shape compared to his previous one, the ways light dances across its smooth surface. Somehow this one's hold over him feels less solid, but he doesn't think that's a fault. If dragonstones worked forever, no matter how often they were broken, then the ancient dragons would never have suffered, would they? He'll probably get a few more chances, and then they'll lose effect.

The thought doesn't scare him, though. Some things can be replaced, and others can't.

They begin the journey back, glad that his siblings thought to bring spare horses (Elise also packed lunches, roast chicken sandwiches and buttered scones, and Corrin doesn't disguise how ravenous he is). He goes over his plan to take Akamura pass with Leo, listening to corrections and preparing for additional pitfalls. Sunset fades to twilight, cloaking the landscape in shadows and the sky in rising stars.

Niles yawns, but immediately has a quip ready to cover it, lest anyone think he was tired. “You'll have to take my word for it, but horses are terribly dull after riding a dragon.”

“I'm not carrying you all the way to camp, Niles.”

“Not even a minute to consider it? What a cruel husband I have...”

Leo snorts, shaking his head. “What a pair you two are.”

 _Well, of course we are,_ Corrin thinks, choosing to take it as a compliment. Because that's what they're meant to be. Through war or peace, until their last heartbeats – and anyone who crosses them will witness a dragon's wrath.


End file.
